Several Deaths
by hallowedmaiden
Summary: The murderess becomes the murdered. DMC. Sparrabeth. One-shot.


**Just a quick one-shot that was requested by a reader (Cleodora). Hope you like it!**

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The footfalls of Gibbs' boots got quieter and quieter the further he got down the ladder, until it was just her and Jack alone on the deck of the Pearl.

A heaviness settled behind her eyes. They felt...solid, fixed on the open air above the railing in front of her...but she wasn't really looking.

Not _out_.

But _in_.

At herself.

At the tattered and bruised remains of the Elizabeth that came before her.

At the silly little girl buried in books about pirates and adventure.

At the silly woman who believed she had loved Will Turner.

At the frustrated Lizzie who had started to feel something for Jack Sparrow.

And at all those women lined up who would have never sent a man to his death.

When her lungs forced her to breath in the smoke and the gunpowder, the scent of defeat and despair...and when she thought of all of the breaths she would have to take after this, each one...another moment of living with a murderer, day after day...and it would be _without him_.

But the rational part of her mind, that cold unyielding...pirate, told her it was the only way...that it was them or him, him or her...and she wanted to _live_.

_He left you to die_.

It was cruel that all the time you spend with a person is just _there_ until you hurt them, She had just _been_ with him on the island, dancing around the fire, she had just _seen _him, talked to him...on the docks in Tortuga...she had just _thought _about him over and over again after he fell over the battlements…

But now that she was staring his death in its horrid face...all of those times were swimming through her eyes, reminding her of how his touch had felt, his warmth, the timbre of his voice...and how he had let her see a little bit of his soul...everything that she had ever liked, enjoyed..._loved_ about him was now laid bare before her...and she was about to kill him while at the same time coming to understand that it would be the worst mistake she had ever made.

It _hurt_.

With a supreme effort, she turned her head to the left to look at his back, at the never-ending expanse of his coat, his ropy hair, the faded ties of his red bandana fluttering in the wind, his hand caressing the wood of his ship like he would a lover he was leaving…

And felt the tugging urge to change her mind, to climb into the longboat with him, to face all of their deaths trying to row back to the island..._no_.

This was the only way.

But it wasn't _right_.

It wasn't _good_.

And it was going to kill her.

_He left you to die_.

But he came back.

_He can't be trusted_._ What kind of pirate makes sacrifices? It's the only way. _

The weight behind her eyes was expanding, moving into her arms, her fingers, her feet, and when she took a step towards him, she felt like she was walking like a woman sentenced to death.

_Don't do this, Elizabeth_.

"Thank you, Jack."

The churning feeling in her gut grew. The more she saw of his face as he turned, the more she wanted to heave what little contents of her stomach she had over the railing.

"We're not free yet, love."

_Don't cry_.

He looked so sad. So...broken.

"You came back."

The smile she plastered on her face felt...painful, like she was taking a knife across her cheeks.

"I always knew you were a good man."

_And she always knew that she wasn't good. _

It wasn't good to step closer to him, to see the anguish, the loss, the...struggle in his eyes, it wasn't _good_ to look at his lips, to think about it, to press her mouth against his...to feel it responding…

But it was only long enough for her brain to commit his taste to memory before he was pushing her away, not hesitantly, not gently...but _forcefully_.

"_Stop_."

Her chest clenched with confusion, her cheeks burned with shame, arousal, anger…she was whispering "what" before she saw his eyes, changed now.

Gone was the window, now they were just flat hard shields of onyx, devoid of anything she wanted to see.

She didn't want to see the repulsion, the...disgust in them…

_And you were about to kill him_.

His jaw was sent in a hard motionless position, his lips immobile…

"I didn't come back for _you_."

The swallow froze halfway down her throat, and the tears that had been lingering behind her eyes surged forward...her hands trembled at her sides, and she had the frightening sensation of her world melting away to her feet.

Something, _anything_ tried to feebly come out of her mouth, but her voice was dead.

"I didn't come back for them either, but _especially not you_."

Her mouth made the word 'but', her lips ached with the effort it took to form it, but nothing came out.

"But you thought that I..._what_, might _love you_? I came back for _me_."

_Me, not you_.

She only stood there, staring at him.

He curled his lip. "I don't love you. I just _wanted _you."

It took her a moment to realize she was shaking her head.

And it took her another moment to identify the twisting emotion in her body.

_Disappointment_.

"Conquest, prize, bed warmer...whichever you like. That's all you ever were to me."

The warm tears were falling down her cheeks now, but they felt bitterly cold.

She was still frozen in place when he stepped closer to her this time, close enough to cup her face with his hand, close enough to bring his lips next to her ear.

"And now you've muddied it with Turner too. I might not mind, but he won't tumble with a _whore_."

Pain shot through her fingers when they shot up to dig into his jacket sleeve, but then he was stepping back. "I would almost suggest that you stay here with me...dying might be better than facing your future hell...but I don't particularly want to _die_ with you either."

A strangled gurgle of his name forced its way out of her mouth.

"_Go_, get off my ship. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to find a brothel that will take you."

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, the sob flying into her palm instead, and she turned, mechanically climbing onto the ladder, then finding herself in the longboat, using what little strength she had left to shout at Gibbs.

"_Go!_"

Had she turned back to look at her captain as she was climbing down, she would have caught the dam in his eyes giving way, the flood of pain taking the place of the _hate_.

If she turned her head to the left, she would see Will looking at her as if she had come down wearing the skin of another person…

...but she kept her head and her eyes straight, even as the sense of death encompassed her.

Both her and Jack were dying today.

She had planned to kill him to save them, but instead, he had killed her for no other reason than he _wanted _to.


End file.
